Acacia - Secrets of an African Painting

by Paul Bondsfield

CHAPTER THREE – MUM TELLS A STORY

  The gathering drew to a close in the early evening with only a few of us left to clear up and share personal memories of Nellie. Mum helped me with the washing up and as we swung into action over the big old ceramic sink in the kitchen, she asked me how I was feeling.

  ‘Oh, pretty good considering.’ I replied, not really sure how I was feeling at this point. Nellie’s passing was no great shock as she had reached a ripe old age and then some. Her life had been so full and happy that I felt as if we had been celebrating that rather than mourning her death.

  ‘I am going to really miss her of course, but I feel as if she will still be around. It’s hard to imagine death isn’t it.’ I searched for the right words to express what I felt. ‘I mean, you can see someone’s body and know in your head that they are dead and gone, but your heart says that they’ve just popped away for a while and will be back. You can almost believe their spirit will live on.’ It sounded daft, a bit new-agey, which wasn’t how I had hoped it would come out.

  I needn’t have worried with Mum though. She slipped her arm around my waist and gave me a hug that told me she understood exactly what I was trying to say. Then she surprised me with her next statement.

  ‘I think Nellie will always be there for this family you know: you especially.

  Whether you call it her spirit or just her memory, everything she ever did for anyone during her life will always be there and can’t be changed now.’

  At that point, I am ashamed to say that I lost it totally. My eyes filled with tears and grief packed my body with a sense of total helplessness, which was like a huge plunging surge of all the feelings inside me. I must have sagged a little too as Mum dropped her tea towel and sprang forward as if to catch me.

  ‘It’s okay.’ I rushed to reassure her. ‘I just felt a little weak there for a second. I haven’t had the chance to cry yet and now seems as good a time as any I suppose.’

  She held my head between her hands and looked at me with concern for a moment before giving a brief smile of encouragement.

  ‘Better out than in you know.’ She hesitated before asking; ‘What was that little discussion you were having with the vicar earlier? It all looked a bit deep there for a while.’

  Mum didn’t miss a trick; she is always able to keep track of whatever is going on in her family’s lives no matter where they are. I had no doubt that she had been keeping an eye on everyone in the room today, just to make sure her able assistance wasn’t required anywhere.

  ‘Oh, he was rambling on a bit about Nellie’s arrival in Bishop’s Down. Said she was hiding something, but never revealed what it was. I think he was just reminiscing a bit and getting things a little muddled.’

  I looked at Mum and could see that she knew something, as she started to rub furiously at a dish that seemed to be dry already.

  ‘Mum? Do you know something about it?’

  ‘No, what makes you think that?’ She rushed a reply, giving it all away as if she had a neon sign flashing away on top of her head.

  ‘Come on, I know you’re hiding something. What is it?’

  She stopped her frantic drying and looked at me carefully, as if to assess whether or not to tell me something important. I started to worry that there was something seriously wrong as Mum normally shared everything with us. Her philosophy was that everyone should be able to make up their own minds and take responsibility for their own actions in life, but they should have all the facts at their disposal. So this reticence at sharing information about something that happened fifty years ago was a little disturbing to say the least.

  ‘There was something that I’ve never told anyone before because Nellie swore me to secrecy.’

  Another surprise: Nellie’s philosophies on telling the truth were a carbon copy of Mum’s. Or perhaps it was the other way round as Nellie had shared nearly as much with Mum as much as she had shared with me over the years.

  ‘It was before you were born, before I even met your dad actually. I remember it as clearly as if it happened only yesterday.’

  She was still a little unsure about this I could tell. I urged her on with a silent nod.

  ‘Nellie came to stay with my family once, just for a few days. We kids were delighted, as we all loved seeing her, although this was the first time she had come to us, it was always the other way round.

  I remember when she arrived though that something didn’t seem quite right. She was quiet, although she hid it fairly well. I don’t think the others thought anything of it, but I knew there was something wrong. She had been there for a day or two and things seemed fine, except at night when I heard her crying in her room. I wasn’t sure how to handle it, as I couldn’t remember ever seeing an adult cry before. I wanted to go in and find out what was wrong, but couldn’t quite summon up enough courage.

  On the third day she was there, everyone else went into town. I decided to stay at home and Nellie said she would too as she felt a little tired. Your Grandmother told me to be quiet and keep out of Nellie’s way if she wanted to get some sleep, so I went up to my room to read for a while. Then I heard the crying again from Nellie’s room and, because it was the middle of the day I suppose, it didn’t seem so bad, so I knocked on her door. She didn’t answer at first but the crying stopped. I was about to go back to my own room when the door opened and she came out into the hallway. I remember being shocked, as her eyes were red and she looked simply ghastly, as if she hadn’t slept for a week.

  She knew that I had suspected something was amiss and asked me if I would like to come and sit out in the garden. We sat on the swing-bench under the willow tree and for a few minutes neither of us spoke a word.’

  Mum took a deep breath before continuing.

  ‘She swore me to secrecy because she said if anyone found out anything about what had happened, her life could be ruined at Bishop’s Down and she may have to move away. I suppose her passing must release me from that promise. No one can move her on from where she is now.’

  ‘I was scared at what she was going to tell me and think it must have showed because she held my hands and started to cry again. She told me that I was old enough to know what had happened and that I would know how to learn from the knowledge. I didn’t really know what she meant at the time, but as the years went by I did learn from it and hope I passed on some of that wisdom to you.’

  She didn’t give me all the facts, but said that when she was in Africa, she was attacked by a bout of madness and she did some bad things while she was in that state. She didn’t say what had caused her condition, but I got the feeling it was something to do with the family myth, you know, about the treasure.’

  At this point, I wasn’t sure that I wanted Mum to go on with the story. If Nellie had gone mad, she had obviously made a complete recovery and never showed any signs of her illness during my lifetime. I was worried that whatever it was that Mum was going to tell me would affect my memories of Nellie and I didn’t want that to happen.

  ‘Mum, are you saying there is some truth behind the treasure myth?’ I asked, thinking back to the dazzling display at the graveyard.

  ‘Oh, I really don’t know if there is or not.’ Mum replied in an offhand way, which immediately aroused my suspicions.

  ‘But Nellie obviously thought there was or she wouldn’t have told you what she did would she.’

  ‘Well, as I said, Nellie didn’t ever say it was the myth that caused her illness, I just surmised that from what she was saying.’ Mum was back-peddling now, but I was eager to find out more. Although I obviously didn’t really believe in buried treasure, just the thought of the mystery piqued my attention like few other things could.

  I pressed on. ‘But you think that is what it was don’t you?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I just thought it might be at the time that’s all. Don’t forget I was only young and my imagination probably just got the better of me.’

  She put an en
d to that particular line of questioning with one of her looks, the one that broached no reply from its recipient.

  ‘Ok,’ I said, ‘so what else did she tell you?’

  ‘Like I said, she told me she had suffered some kind of attack and I got the feeling that something bad happened as a result. I asked some others in the family later, but no one would or could tell me anymore.’

  ‘So what was it that she thought you would learn from all this then?’ I was mystified and wanted Mum to finish the story.

  ‘She said that she had suffered because she had lost control of her “inner demons” for a while. She said that dreams are not always what you think they are and that you should always live in the real world. She told me also that there was a lot of fanciful nonsense spouted by people who should know better, but at the end of the day if you couldn’t see it, touch it, smell it, or taste it, then it probably didn’t exist.’

  I could see where Mum had got the idea that it was the treasure myth that Nellie was talking about.

  She carried on. ‘That was all she told me, apart from making me remember her words, but swearing me to secrecy. I tried to get some more facts out of her, but she wouldn’t budge at all. She just repeated that I should always deal with what I know for a fact and nothing else, which is what I’ve always tried to do.’

  ‘But she didn’t tell you what actually happened? Give you any detail at all? I asked eager to know the facts.

  ‘No, that was all she told me.’ Mum said, not entirely convincingly, but certainly conclusively.

  I wasn’t sure how to deal with this new information. Whatever had happened had obviously had a huge impact on Nellie’s life, made her move her whole life to another continent, and its effects had been picked up by a young vicar, unsure of his standing in the community. It had also obviously bothered that same vicar for the rest of Nellie’s life, but the loyalty that she engendered in people had kept him from saying anything until she had moved on again, this time forever.

  I must have looked upset as I pondered over these thoughts, because Mum took my hand and said ‘What about Eden, you should be with her, I know she’d be a great support for you. Why isn’t she with you today?

  ‘It’s complicated Mum, and I’d rather not talk about it right now if that’s okay?’

  I wondered if Mum had been talking to Eden by the way she looked at me for a moment, but she obviously took the hint. ‘Why don’t you pop into the workroom where it’s quiet and take a few moments to be on your own with your thoughts.’

  ‘Yes I think I will, thanks Mum.’ I dropped the washing up brush back into the suds and wandered to the little room off the lounge where Nellie used to sit and sew in peace and quiet.

  Like the rest of the house, the workroom is decorated in a style of a time gone by, and contains many artefacts and mementoes from Africa; some that Nellie brought back with her and some that had been brought as gifts by visiting family. As I entered the room, I caught sight of my face in the mirror next to the doorframe, noting that my dark, nearly black hair needed a cut and that the normally bright blue of my eyes looked a bit faded. I wiped my face quickly and sat down on an African chair, a beautifully carved, two-piece affair which looks hard and uninviting, but which is actually very comfortable, albeit low to the ground. The back is a single piece of concaved timber with a small slot cut into it near the base. The carvings are incredible and depicted animals, trees, and people interwoven in three dimensions. The seat is lollipop shaped with the “stick” going through the slot in the back and the “lollipop” upon which you sit, again carved, although less elaborately. That was all there is to it, the two pieces holding each other up and forming a simple but comfortable and beautiful seat: a brilliant piece of furniture design from a people who were once described as savages. I could never quite get my head around the views of early settlers in Africa, who didn’t appear to appreciate that although the people of Africa had a culture vastly different to their own; they were in fact a well developed society with their own arts and culture stretching back thousands of years. The benefits of hindsight I guess, I may have had the same views if I had been around at the time.

  As I sat in Nellie’s workroom, I pondered on the news that Nellie’s past hid some secrets, which by the sounds of things were possibly less than savoury. What could it possibly have been that she had done that was so bad to have uprooted her from a land she loved and away from all the people and places she knew so well. What would be the worst thing someone could do that would make them flee to another country? I had a sudden terrible and unbidden thought, an obvious answer to that question. What if Nellie had somehow caused someone harm or even death? My god! That would explain everything. However, I stopped myself before the thought had time to grab hold and form into anything more than a whim. I castigated myself for even considering such a possibility. The idea was too horrible, too absurd because of the person I was thinking about. Nellie would never have intentionally hurt anyone even with a cross word, never mind physically.

  I was saved from any more introspection by the arrival of Tara into the room who then peered at me with such a concerned look on her face that I couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘Hi there mate, how’s the clearing up going?’ I asked.

  ‘Almost done now, there’s only us and your mother left and she said she will be off in a few minutes.

  ‘Good stuff.’ I jumped up from my low-seated position and put my arm round Tara’s shoulders. ‘How are you holding up? I have been too self absorbed today and don’t think I have even asked you how you are yet.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, resting her head on my shoulder, ‘I was worried about you. Your Mum said you were a bit upset.’

  ‘Yeah I was: the whole thing kind of caught up on me and I wasn’t prepared for it. I had a bit of a girly cry though and that helped.’ I kept my voice light to hide the uneasy feelings I had been having only moments before.

  ‘Girly cry eh? You men: there’s nothing wrong with a bit of a cry you know. It helps release a lot of tension that’s bad for you as long as it’s inside.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I exclaimed a little over zealously, ‘as long as no one else sees me I will cry along with the best of them. You’re right though, I do feel better now, thanks to a chat with Mum and some quiet time for reflection.’

  ‘Thinking about Nellie?’

  ‘Yeah and wondering about the vicar’s mumblings a bit actually. Mum told me that there was something in Nellie’s past that may have caused her move to England, but she was a bit vague about it. I must admit I let my imagination get the better of me for a while, but I wouldn’t mind finding out a bit more.’ I looked off into space as I started to ponder again, and Tara lifted her head and looked up at me quizzically.

  ‘You think there is something to find out then do you? I thought you said the vicar was talking nonsense.’

  ‘Well yes I did earlier, but like I said, Mum said some things that have made me wonder and now I don’t know what to think. I’d like to find out just to settle my mind more than anything.’

  ‘Ok then! Count me in.’ Tara stated emphatically. ‘I was wondering about things a bit too, so let’s get to the bottom of it before we both let our minds wander too much.’ Tara was always on for a bit of a mystery and loved delving into situations so I wasn’t in the least bit surprised at her enthusiasm for the task at hand.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’ Tara also loved a long pint of beer in whichever local pub was handy at the time. She always said she did her best thinking with a beer glass in her hand. Who was I to stand in the way of her best thinking?

  ‘But I thought you were heading home?’ I asked the question only out of politeness as Tara’s company was exactly what I needed right now.

  ‘Oh, I can hang on a bit longer, especially if there’s a mystery in the offing.’

  ‘Right-oh then, to the pub it is.’ I said in relief.

  We wandered through to the
verandah again where Mum was pulling on her coat ready to leave.

  ‘Are you two off as well?’ she asked, as she wrapped her scarf around her head and pulled on some woollen mittens.

  ‘Yeah, we’re going to the pub for a while. Is everything finished here then?’ I asked looking around the familiar surroundings.

  ‘Yes, all done for now,’ she replied, but we’ll have to wait until the will is read before we can decide what happens to the house and all her stuff.’

  ‘God, I’d forgotten about that.’ Tara shuddered at the thought. ‘Is there going to be an actual reading, like they do in the movies?’

  ‘A reading, yes, but nothing dramatic I don’t think.’ Mum frowned, ‘But Nellie’s lawyer has said that he needs to go through her will as it is quite extensive. She seems to have decided where each and every item she owned will end up and with whom. He says it will take a couple of weeks before he’s ready to present it to the family though.’

  We all moved towards the door and then pulled it shut and locked it behind us. As one, we turned and looked back at the house from the pathway; I guess all saying a final farewell to a person and place that had been a huge and important part of all our lives.

  THE PAST